And none did love him!—though to hall and bower[28]

He gathered revellers from far and near,

He knew them flatterers of the festal hour,

The heartless Parasites of present cheer.

Yea! none did love him—not his lemans dear—[ab] [29]

But pomp and power alone are Woman's care,

And where these are light Eros finds a feere;[30]

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,

And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.